


Passing the Torch

by StrangerInAStrangePlace



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky Barnes as Captain America, Companionable Snark, Dirty Talk, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mission Fic, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 13:25:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8163571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrangerInAStrangePlace/pseuds/StrangerInAStrangePlace
Summary: “Traitor. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t make you sleep on the couch tonight.”Steve slides a hand down the front of his pants and lazily strokes him through his boxer shorts.“Just one?”





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a birthday gift for MarcellaBianca, who requested Bucky!Cap, dirty talk, and ZERO ANGST. And because she is the wind beneath my wings, I had to oblige, even though those are three things I have literally never written before. Happy birthday!
> 
> I'm gonna say this takes place in the same handwavey universe as "Interrogation Techniques for Beginners," where everyone gets to be happy without all the messy emotional fallout it would probably take to get there. And speaking of messy, this is the first smut I've ever written! Be gentle.

The lights are all off when Bucky lets himself into the apartment, leaving him to assume Steve must already be asleep. He toes off his shoes and pushes them into the corner; he’s usually a stickler for putting things back where they belong, but they’ll keep until tomorrow. Hanging up his jacket next to the door, he raises his arms above his head, fingers interlocked, stretching until he hears his shoulders pop.

“That’s disgusting.”

Bucky drops his arms and turns to grin at Steve, who’s leaning against the wall of their entryway, arms cross over his bare chest and sweatpants hanging low on his hips. His hair is mussed like he’s been lying in bed, but his eyes are alert. Not sleeping, then. Of course not. He should’ve figured.

Giving Steve an apologetic shrug, Bucky says, “Can’t help it. It’s these old joints of mine.” He cracks his neck, once, and laughs when Steve winces. “You weren’t waiting up for me, were you? I know how much you need your beauty sleep.”

“Well, you did say you were with me for my good looks,” Steve says, as Bucky approaches. “It’s enough to give a guy a complex.”

“Come on, you know that’s not true.” Bucky wraps his arms around Steve’s waist. “You also have that thing you do with your tongue-”

“Shut up and c’mere.” Steve presses his lips to Bucky’s, kissing him long and slow and just how Bucky likes. “Hi,” he murmurs against his mouth.

“Hi,” Bucky whispers, stealing in to kiss him again. After a moment, Steve pulls back.

“You could use a shower.”

Bucky laughs. “How romantic. That’s what you get for jumping a guy as soon as he walks in the door instead of letting me clean up like a normal person.”

“We’re not normal people.” Steve’s pulling him through the apartment, dark except for the vestiges of light coming in from the streetlamps below. “You want some company? You look pretty tired, I can make sure you don’t fall asleep and accidentally drown.”

“Wow, very nice of you.” He winces as Steve flips on the lights; Steve must notice, because he immediately dims them to a tolerable level.

“Well, I’m a nice guy.” Steve’s pulling off his black Henley, unceremoniously dropping it to the floor. Bucky reaches for the fly of his jeans, but he’s distracted when Steve leans in again, pushing him back until he’s flush against the wall, pressing his lips to the side of his neck before dipping lower to suck a bruise into his collarbone. Bucky groans in encouragement and tips his head back to give Steve more room to work. Steve pulls down the zipper of his jeans and slowly drags them over his hips, but then he stops and pulls away because he’s an insufferable goddamn tease when he wants to be.

“You really do need a shower,” he says with a grin. Bucky groans again, in frustration this time. "You keep distracting me, that’s not fair.”

“I’m not distracting you.” Steve’s running one hand up Bucky’s side, making him shiver; the other is tugging at the waistband of his boxers, still firmly (unfortunately) in place. Bucky leans in closer to the touch, feeling his breath start to quicken. “What do you say? Want me to join you?”

“Mmm.” Bucky hums, but shakes his head. “No, I got it, Stevie. Go back to bed.”

“You sure?” Steve’s looking at him a little closer now, eyes searching for something in his face, but Bucky just gives him a nod. He needs a little time to come down from the mission, even if it was a fairly simple one, all things considered. He still feels tense, wound up, and he needs a little time to himself just to make sure his head is clear.

Even if Steve’s hands are incredibly tempting. And they are. They really are.

“Go on,” Bucky says before he can change his mind, turning Steve around and giving him a little shove towards the bed. “I’ll be ten minutes, if you think you can survive that long without me.”

“I don’t know, I’ve gotten pretty good at pining for you when you're gone.”

Bucky snorts and steps out of his jeans, heading for the bathroom door, but something soft hits him on the back of the head. He turns around to see Steve lying in bed, propped up against the headboard with his hands behind his head. His sweatpants are lying in a heap at Bucky’s feet.

“You’re killing me, Rogers,” he mutters with a shake of his head, but he can’t help his smile when Steve laughs.

 

  
(“ _So, first mission in charge.” Sam pops his knuckles, watching Bucky. “Your first run as Captain America.”_

_“Yep, I remember,” Bucky replies, watching him._

_“You nervous?”_

_Next to them, Clint laughs. “Nervous? Of course he’s nervous. I’d be shitting my pants if it were me. Not that you have to worry, I mean,” he adds, catching the look that Bucky gives him. “I’m sure you’ll do fine. It’s not like we’re battling an alien army.” He pauses. “Not this time, at least.” Another pause. “That we know of.”_

_“Clint, focus,” Natasha interrupts. Turning to Bucky, she says, “All of our intel points to this apartment being a rendez-vous point for A.I.M. and it’s operatives. Mostly they use it to smuggle weapons in and out of the city, but lately their activity has dropped to almost nothing. We think they’re working on something big and they’re using this apartment as base of operations.”_

_“Seems like kind of a weird place for a hideout, doesn’t it?” Sam says. “If whatever they’re working on is so top-secret, why would you keep it in the middle of a crowded city? Too many people, too many variables.”_

_“True,” Clint says. “There’s a reason the Unabomber lived in a creepy cabin in the woods.”_

_“Not necessarily,” Bucky murmurs. “Remote isn’t the same as secure. This building must have 20 units, and they all look the same. You’d be hiding in plain sight.”_

_“Which tells us that whatever they’re working on, it’s small enough to be contained inside, and quiet enough to not disturb the neighbors,” Natasha adds._

_“So we can rule out death ray?” Sam guesses._

_“Hopefully.” Bucky nods. “They’re on the top floor; we can get access from the roof. Clint, I want you up there for cover. Natasha, there’s a fire escape on the side with two windows, unbarred. Sam and I will come in from the hallway.”_

_Bucky looks up and for a moment he’s taken aback by how intently everyone is listening to him. He’s giving orders and all three are taking them in, absorbing them and agreeing like they do this every day. He falters, just for a second, the weight of responsibility crushing down around his shoulders, but then Natasha dips her head, just once, a small nod of encouragement, and suddenly he feels like he can breath again.)_

 

  
When Bucky steps out of the shower, there’s a fresh towel and a clean set of clothes stacked on the counter. He smiles as he dries himself off, wringing as much water out of his hair before dressing and tossing the dirty clothes into a hamper.

Steve’s still in bed where Bucky left him, scrolling through his phone with that contented, dopey look he gets on his face when he manages to relax. He tosses the phone on the bedside table as Bucky climbs into bed and switches off the light. In the dark, Bucky sidles up next to him, nudging and prodding until his head is cushioned on Steve’s chest with Steve’s arm wrapped around his shoulder. Bucky turns over a little more so he can comfortably drape an arm around his waist, closes his eyes, and lets himself breath.

“Your hair is wet,” Steve murmurs, breaking the silence. Bucky huffs.

“Mm, well, that’s what happens when you bathe. Must’ve been a while for you if you forgot how it works.”

“Jerk.” Steve flicks his earlobe. “So. How did it go?”

“Oh God,” Bucky groans, turning his face further into Steve’s chest. “You’ve been dying to ask since I walked in the door, haven’t you?”

“Oh, way before that,” Steve agrees, rubbing his fingers into the nape of Bucky’s neck. Bucky hums in encouragement. “You’re lucky I wasn’t calling to check in every fifteen minutes.”

“Wouldn’t have answered anyway, I didn’t have my phone on me.”

Steve lifts his head to look down at him. “You didn’t bring your phone?”

“On a mission? No, I never do. Why would I?”

“I always did.” 

Bucky thinks of the Captain America suit and its unforgiving lines. “Where the hell did you keep it?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Steve wags his eyebrows and Bucky laughs despite himself. “You know, I’m not sure I would.”

Steve lays back down and manages to stay silent for several minutes, letting Bucky ghost his hands over his ribs and occasionally push a lazy kiss into the skin of his neck or along his jaw. With one arm still wrapped around Bucky’s shoulders, he brings the other one up to wrap around his waist, blunt fingernails scratching his back gently through the cotton of his t-shirt. Still, he’s never been able to keep his mouth shut for long, and he finally says, “You never answered my question, you know.”

“Can’t you just let an old man rest?”

“Your first mission as Captain America? Nope, sorry. I’m afraid I need all the gory details.” When Bucky turns his face up to glare at him, Steve shrugs. “Hey, I don’t make the rules.”

“Sure as hell don’t follow them, anyway,” Bucky grumbles, feeling Steve huff a laugh into his hair. They lay in quiet for a minute more, Steve tracing his fingers over Bucky’s arm, pausing occasionally to worry at the short sleeve of his shirt. Finally, Bucky says, “It went okay, I think.”

“Just okay?”

“Yeah, I guess. It was…it was weird, honestly. I mean, it was kind of uneventful, for one thing, but it also just…” He pauses, trying to find the right words. “It felt really fucking weird, to be the one in charge. Giving orders and having people follow them. It was…I don’t know. Not used to it, I guess.”

“Did everything go alright, at least?”

“With the mission? Yeah, it was cake.” Bucky waves an arm vaguely before settling it back around Steve’s waist where it belongs. “Like I said, it was uneventful. Got in without a problem, got what we needed, got back out. Whole thing probably took ten minutes.”

“Kind of anticlimactic, huh?”

“Yeah.” Bucky shifts in Steve’s arms. “I mean, it’s a good thing, don’t get me wrong, it just…”

“Wasn’t what you were expecting?” Steve finishes.

“No, don’t make me sound like a drama queen.” Bucky shoves him lightly before settling back in. “I’m not going to complain about an easy night. Except for Clint mouthing off, of course.”

"Which he does all the time."

"Yeah, apparently."

 

  
_(“On my count, we go in. Wait for my signal, no one moves in without cover.”_

_“You got it, Cap,” Clint says, and immediately frowns. “Hang on. Wait. I don’t think I like that.”_

_“What are you talking about?” Natasha raises an eyebrow at him._

_“Calling him Cap. We can’t call him Cap. Steve’s Cap, Barnes isn’t Cap.”_

_Bucky looks down at the star on his chest. “Yeah, I am.”_

_“No, I mean, you_ are _. But you’re_ not _. You know what I mean?”_

_“No one knows what you mean,” Sam says, looking like he’s trying hard to keep a straight face._

_“Whatever, man.” Clint waves him off. “All I’m saying is that it feels wrong to give you Steve’s nickname. And no offense to you, Barnes, because I love you, you know I do. It’s just…principles, you know?”_

_Sam and Natasha are openly smirking. Bucky wonders if it’s too late to change the plan to “Evacuate the building and blow it up” so he can go home._

_“What did they call you during the war?” Clint is asking._

_“Sarge,” Bucky says, just to shut him up._

_“Sarge.” Clint tests it out. “Guess that doesn’t really work either, does it?”_

_“Sarge and Cap,” Sam says. “Man, that’s cute.”_

_Bucky counts down from five in his head and asks, “Anything else before we get into position?”_

_Clint tilts his head and says, “I don’t like the new uniform.”)_

 

 

“The uniform? What’s wrong with the uniform?”

“You mean other than the fact that it’s terrible? I’m actually with Clint on this one, I can’t believe you wore that thing for so long.”

“Yours is different,” Steve grumbles. “Mine must’ve been better.”

“C'mon, they're close enough. You didn’t think it was too tight?”

“I never had a problem with it. Now the stage one, on the other hand, that was awful. It was basically pajamas, I always felt like a fool when I was wearing it.”

“At least it was comfortable.”

“I was a dope in a onesie.”

“You’re still a dope.”

“Yeah, but now you’re the one wearing the onesie.”

“God.” Bucky tilts his head back. “I quit.”

“You can’t quit.”

“Sure I can.”

“No, because then I’ll have to come out of retirement, and we’ve already filled out the Captain America replacement paperwork.”

Bucky hums, pushing his leg over so it’s resting between Steve’s. “So what you’re saying is I’m stuck with it?”

“Looks like it. Sorry, pal.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

 

_(“Everyone in position?” Bucky whispers. Natasha and Clint’s voices come over the com._

_“Ready.”_

_“Yeah, check.”_

_“You good?” Bucky nods at Sam, who says, “Yeah, man. Let’s get this done.”_

_“Amen. On my count…3...2...1...Move in!”_

_There’s the sound of shattering glass as Clint smashes the grimy skylight from the roof. Bucky busts open the door with his metal arm and Sam immediately rushes in, gun drawn, trusting Bucky to cover him from behind. They round a corner to see Natasha standing amongst the shards of glass from the broken window, holding her gun to the head of a very frightened-looking man on his knees. Otherwise, the apartment appears to be empty. Bucky and Sam look around, then at each other, and back to Natasha._

_“It’s just one guy,” Sam says, unnecessarily, though neither he nor Bucky lower their guns._

_“There are more!” their hostage cries, a hysterical edge to his voice. “They’re coming, they should be here any minute, and if you’re still around when they come, believe me, you don’t-”_

_Natasha puts a stop to his babbling by pressing the barrel of her gun to his temple. Bucky steps forward, flexing his metal arm so that it catches the light. The guy swallows visibly, looking pale._

_“You work for A.I.M., don’t you?” he says, trying to infuse his voice with Steve’s grave authority. Natasha gives him another tiny nod of approval._

_“No!” the guy cries, and Bucky just stares at him. “Well…yes. I mean, I do, but I don’t…I didn’t want to, I didn’t know they were a terrorist group! All they said was they were interesting in a program I was writing, I didn’t know what they wanted to use it for! I didn’t know what I was getting into, you gotta believe me!” Looking around wildly, he says, “Please don’t kill me.”_

_“Christ’s sake, we’re not going to kill you,” Bucky snaps. “What’s your name?”_

_“Mike.”_

_“Mike.” Natasha speaks up from behind him and he jumps. “Nobody’s going to kill you Mike. Unless you try and kill one of us first, but I don’t think you’re going to do that. Are you, Mike?”_

_“No!” Mike’s already shaking his head. “I won’t, I really won’t, I don’t even think I could, I’ve never picked up a gun in my entire life, how would I even know how to use one?”_

_“Stop talking,” Bucky says, and Mike’s mouth snaps shut. “Have you been working here this whole time?”_

_Mike nods._

_“Has anything been removed? Equipment, weapons, anything like that?”_

_“Not that I know of,” Mike says. “I’ve been working on a computer program for them, they said they wanted to use it to,” he lowers his voice, “bring down the government.” Looking around, he continues, “They said yesterday that I only had a few days to complete it, otherwise they’d…they’d kill me.”_

_For a moment, no one speaks, until Bucky says, “Well, Mike, I have some bad news for you.” He leans in and says, “You’re a terrible actor.”_

_Mike’s face changes instantly into a snarl, the frightened nerd persona already cast off to the side. “Your world will fall,” he hisses. “We will take down your government and rise to our rightful positions of power, and you will be no match for-”_

_He is unceremoniously interrupted by Natasha shocking him in the neck, and he slumps to the ground, unconscious. She shrugs._

_“At least it wasn’t ‘Hail HYDRA.’”_

_“I guess,” Bucky mutters._

_Clint rappels in from the hole he made in the ceiling. “Where is everyone?”_

_Sam points at Mike and Clint does a double-take. “What, that’s it?”_

_“Do a sweep just to be sure,” Bucky instructs. As Clint leaves, Natasha calls, “James.”_

_Bucky turns around and the flash of her camera phone goes off right in his face. When the spots stop dancing across his vision, Natasha is tapping at the screen with a self-satisfied expression. Catching Bucky’s glare, she says, “For my scrapbook.”_

_Clint comes stomping back in, pronouncing the apartment clear. “No offense Sarge, but did you really need all of us here for this?”)_

 

Steve’s openly laughing and Bucky shoves him again. “No phones on missions. I’m making a rule.”

“Oh yeah? How you gonna enforce that, tough guy?”

“I’ll enforce it by being the fucking captain, isn’t that how it’s supposed to work? You’re supposed to listen to the guy in charge?”

“You know what I think would help?” Steve is looking at him very seriously and Bucky can already tell he’s going to hate the answer. “If you stomp your feet in the middle of your tantrum.”

“Steve.”

“Maybe throw in a little name-calling, too, just to show them who’s boss.”

“Steve!” Bucky’s trying not to laugh now.

“All I’m sayin’, Buck, is that the other kids are never gonna let you be in charge of the playground if you’re not pulling their pigtails hard enough.”

“You might as well put your pants back on if you’re gonna keep giving me lip, Rogers.”

“But Bucky.” Steve shifts so he’s lying on top on him, fingers playing at the hem of his shirt and threatening to push it up his torso. “My pants are all the way over there.”

“That’s not my fault,” Bucky grumbles.

“It is,” Steve murmurs, kissing him. “It really is.”

Steve kisses him again, deeper, nibbling at his lower lip before sucking his tongue into his mouth. Bucky moans greedily, running metal fingers up the notches of Steve’s spine. They kiss for several minutes, long and unhurried, but it’s broken when Steve suddenly chuckles, dropping his head to Bucky’s chest. “I have a confession.”

“Should I be worried?” Bucky says, carding his fingers through Steve’s hair. Steve just shakes his head and pushes himself up enough to fumble for his phone on the bedside table. He swipes at the screen and hold it up so Bucky can see, and there’s the picture Nat had taken of him earlier, his expression falling somewhere between startled and pissed, and Sam laughing in the background.

“What the hell,” he cries snatching the phone out of Steve’s hand as Steve laughs. “When did she send you this?”

“Probably right after she took it,” Steve says, and he’s actually giggling, the bastard. “She sent me a couple of texts after you left.”

“You’re checking up on me with _Natalia_?” Bucky gives him what he hopes is a look of utmost betrayal. “On a _mission_? On my first mission as Captain America?” He shoves Steve off of him and turns over in a huff.

“Only a couple of times,” Steve says, sliding up next to him and slipping his arms around Bucky again. Bucky grunts, but doesn’t shove him off. “I couldn’t help it. I was lonely over here.” He noses at Bucky’s earlobe.

“Oh, don’t give me that,” Bucky grumbles. “Traitor. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t make you sleep on the couch tonight.”

Steve slides a hand down the front of his pants and lazily strokes him through his boxer shorts.

“Just one?”

Bucky bites back a groan. “You’re gonna have to do better than that,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady.

“No I don’t.” Steve grins into his neck and increases the pressure, and Bucky’s hips cant forward into his hand.

“You smug son of a bitch,” he mutters, breath catching when Steve’s fingers dip just inside the waistband of his boxers.

“It’s not my fault you’re easy,” Steve murmurs back, and Bucky wants to respond, but suddenly the thin t-shirt he’s wearing feels too tight on his body, oppressive in the way it’s preventing his skin from touching Steve’s. He pulls away just long enough to yank it over his head, dropping it onto the ground. He barely has time to lay back down before Steve’s easing his pants and boxers down his legs, letting his fingernails drag down Bucky’s thighs as he does. His hands sweep back up Bucky’s legs and then bypass his cock completely to settle on his stomach, making Bucky whine in frustration.

“Patience,” Steve teases, and Bucky could kill him, he really could, but Steve’s got one hand splayed out just under his ribs and the other is stroking across his chest and it’s so maddeningly good that Bucky forgets about wanting to have the upper hand.

Steve’s thumb brushes across one of his nipples and Bucky arches his back, pushing his hips back against Steve’s pelvis. Steve’s fingers brush past it again, giving it a pinch this time, rolling the nub between his thumb and forefinger as it hardens. The other hand is still on his stomach, dipping lower, but slowly, so slowly, the pace maddening as he gets closer to Bucky’s cock only to pull back at the last moment. Bucky is hard, achingly hard, and Steve has yet to lay a finger on him directly, and he thinks he could lose his mind in this potent combination of sensation and anticipation.

“Wanted to be there with you tonight,” Steve is saying, low and husky in his ear. “Wanted to see you in charge, giving orders.”

“Steve,” Bucky moans, thrusting up and trying to catch Steve’s roaming fingers. Steve’s other hand comes down and grips his hips, holding him in place.

“It’s why I asked Natasha to send me a picture,” Steve says. “Wanted to see you in the uniform. Wish you’d worn it home, so I could get the chance to take it off. Peel it back, one piece at a time, and run my tongue over every bit of skin as it‘s exposed. You don‘t know what you do to me baby, the way you get me going.” His fingers are tracing the crease of Bucky’s thigh, close, so close.

“Next time,” Bucky pants. “Next time, Stevie, whatever you want, swear to God I’ll do it, just, please, Steve, please.” He’s babbling, verging on nonsense, desperate for Steve to finally touch him.

“Whatever I want, huh,” Steve says, teasing. “Might have to take you up on that. Get creative, huh? Whaddya say? I got a few new ideas myself.”

Bucky’s writhing in his hands now, as Steve strokes his inner thigh.

“Maybe after the next mission,” Steve continues. “Maybe I’ll come along on that one. I bet I wouldn’t even be able to wait until we get home. I’d have to drag you off where no one can see and strip you down right there, just to get my hands all over you.”

Steve wraps his hand around Bucky’s cock without warning, and Bucky cries out at the sudden contact, tears of relief welling up in his eyes. He moans again, thrusting into Steve’s fist, and Steve strokes him, slow at first, then a little faster. His thumb brushes over the head and Bucky chokes out his name again. “Steve…I’m close, I’m gonna…God…”

“Not yet,” Steve whispers, slowing his pace again, twisting his wrist at the top before slowing back down. “Soon, but not yet. Wanna make it last, want you screaming my name by the end.” Steve thrusts up behind him, and Bucky wants to spread his legs, but Steve’s legs are buffeting his, hand still clamped on his hip, and there’s nowhere for him to go.

“Love you like this,” Steve says, breath on his ear. “The way you fall apart for me. No one else gets to see you like this. No one else know what you do to me. This is all ours, isn’t it?”

“Yours,” Bucky gasps. “Yours, yours, Steve…I can’t, I…”

“I know,” Steve whispers. “You can let go now, baby. Come for me.” He bites down on Bucky’s earlobe and Bucky comes with a sharp cry that takes him by surprise as his vision goes white and then dark. Steve ruts against him once, twice, and he’s then he’s coming on the third, panting, fingers digging bruises into Bucky’s skin.

It takes a long time for Bucky’s heart to slow to its normal pace. Steve’s pressed up against him, long fingers absently stroking patterns into his abdomen. His nose is pressed into his neck, but every so often he lifts his head to press a kiss into Bucky’s hair. And maybe it makes him a sap, but Bucky almost likes this part the best, the way Steve slowly puts him back together after taking him apart.

The sweat is cooling on their skin, making them both shiver, and Bucky leans out of Steve’s embrace enough to grope around for the sleep pants he’d dropped on the floor earlier, Tugging them back on, he lies down again, letting Steve manhandle him onto his back before pulling him up against his chest, like they’d been lying before.

“You might need another shower,” Steve says after a minute, and Bucky could kill him sometimes, but tonight he just chuckles.

“Still interested in joining me?”

“I could be persuaded.”

“Not yet though.”

“Nah.” Steve tugs the covers up over them both. “I think it can wait.”


End file.
